Four Rules For Impending Fatherhood
by magentacr
Summary: And rules are made to be broken. A sequel to my other stories; 'Taming the Shrewd' and 'Love Me and Leave Me'. As the birth of Molly and Sherlock's child grows closer, will Sherlock be able to follow Molly's rules on his cases, so he can be ready for his child's arrival, or will things get out of hand, as usual.
1. The Rules

**AN: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

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**The Rules**

_1. No cases higher than 6 until the baby is born._

_2. No running off alone on cases. Keep John with you._

_3. Only take cases in London (or at least close to London) until the baby is born._

_4. ALWAYS answer your phone._


	2. Domesticity

**Domesticity **

Molly's eyes blinked open at the usual time, even without an alarm. With a groan she pushed herself up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and resting there for a second before attempting to move any further. Being pregnant was harder work than she'd imagined.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sherlock's deep voice rumbled from the other side of the bed. Molly turned back to look at him, smiling softly. He was already propped up on the pillows, in his 'thinking pose', clearly having already been awake some time. He smiled back at her, with a cheeky glint in his eye.

"To get a shower, of course, like usual." She answered.

"I presumed as much. You do remember that your maternity leave starts today though, and therefore there is no need for you to be getting up so early." Sherlock pointed out.

"I know," Molly sighed "I woke up out of habit, and I know there's no point trying to get back to sleep now; I'm too awake."

"Doesn't mean you need to get out of bed." Sherlock replied slyly, shifting behind her and wrapping his arms around her, one hand caressing her baby bump, the other cupping her breast as his lips found her neck. Molly sighed in pleasure, leaning back against him for a second, before pulling away and getting to her feet.

"Sorry, but it does. I really need to pee." She pouted. She'd already been twice in the night, another unfortunate side-effect of the pregnancy.

It was a good thing the bathroom in 221b was right next to Sherlock's bedroom. They had moved back to Baker Street shortly after Molly had fallen pregnant. John and Mary had decided to get their own place after all, and not wanting to leave Mrs Hudson on her own again (and deciding it would be useful to have her support with the baby anyway) Sherlock and Molly had moved in.

Sherlock followed Molly into the bathroom, pulling out the scales and a tape measure while she was on the toilet. When she was done she obediently stepped onto the scales, while Sherlock looped the tape measure round her belly.

"Do we really have to do this every day?" She grumbled.

"The measurements need to be taken at regular intervals in order for me to effectively track the baby's growth. I suppose weekly might have sufficed, but you agreed to daily at the start, remember." Sherlock reminded her, making mental note of the figures and letting Molly sit back down, while he turned the shower on to warm up for her. "Besides, you only have a couple of weeks to go. We're into the final stages, if anything I need the measurements more now than before, if I'm going to accurately calculate the baby's weight at birth."

"Why do you need to predict the baby's weight, though? We don't even know the sex." Molly pointed out, taking his arm as he helped her up and into the shower.

"That was your idea, though I have a pretty good educated guess, and I'm happy to wait until the day to find out I'm right." Sherlock smirked, joining her in the shower.

"_If_ you're right." Molly teased, before dropping the subject.

* * *

After they'd showered and dried off, Sherlock sat down at the table with his laptop, inputting today's measurements into his spreadsheet, and checking his emails for any new cases, as Molly moved around the kitchen behind him, making tea and breakfast.

"Boring. Dull. Obvious. Not even a case. Dull." He muttered, scrolling through.

"What about that one?" Molly asked, a title catching her eye as she put his toast down in front of him, before sitting down with her own, much fuller plate.

"Jewel thief at some rich snobs' wedding? Barely a 5." Sherlock said with a wave of dismissal.

"Well that's good isn't it? Since you _promised_ you wouldn't work anything bigger than a 6 until after the baby is born, in case I need you. I'd say a 5 is pretty high up the scale." Molly reminded him.

Sherlock sighed and pouted at the screen. He hadn't forgotten his promise, and hadn't taken anything but 6's since he'd made it. Mostly high 6's. Today though, this 5 was the best his inbox had to offer.

"It'll do I suppose." He sighed.

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_AN: Hello again mi lovelies. I know I've been talking about it for a while, but kept getting distracted by oneshots, but it's finally here: the third part of my Sherlolly series. I considered posting just the first chapter as a teaser, but I've kept you waiting so long I thought I'd better give you something a bit more substantial to get your teeth into. Hope you enjoyed, hopefully I'll be able to keep up with my chapter a day rule for this series, so more tomorrow :) As always, reviews make my day, so please pop in and say hi. Especially my regular readers, looking forward to seeing your usernames in my review box again :D_


	3. Old Aquainances

**Old Acquaintances **

A few hours later, Sherlock had picked up John and they were on their way to the client's home a few miles out of London, for a consultation. As they pulled through the wrought iron gates onto what looked like an unnecessarily long driveway, Sherlock let out a soft sigh of recognition.

"Of course. I thought I recognised the name." He murmured, as the pieces came together in his mind.

"You've been here before?" John asked, turning away from the view to question his friend.

"Yes. Many times. The Lord of the manor, and our employer on this case, Sir Christopher Buckley, Earl of Didcot, has two daughters. His oldest, whose wedding the jewellery was stolen from, is a few years younger than Mycroft, while his youngest is only a year younger than myself. When we were children, our Mother used to bring us out here for 'playdates' with them; as a means of social climbing. We were regular visitors for a few years, before abruptly ceasing contact with them." Sherlock explained.

"What did you do?" John asked with an eye-roll and accusatory glare

"Me? Who said it was my fault we stopped coming?" Sherlock shot back.

"Because… you're _you_. What was it? Did you announce your observations that the Countess was having an affair with the gardener, or something like that?" John took a guess.

"It was the cook actually." Sherlock corrected "But no, Mycroft was the only one I told about that little observation, and he warned me to keep my mouth shut."

"And since when did you ever listen to him?"

"Believe it or not, when we were younger I rather looked up to him. Anyway, it wasn't me who told about the affair, but somehow the news of the scandal got out among the upper classes. The family lost its social standing, and it was suddenly more prudent to avoid the family than associate with them, so that's what my mother did. So ended our visits." Sherlock concluded his explanation as their cab pulled to a stop in front of the house.

They paid the cabbie and climbed the steps; Sherlock with casual disinterest, while John stared in wonder at the grand manor, with its sprawling, well maintained grounds. The door was opened to them before they reached it, by a butler; who showed them into the entrance hall, took their coats and asked them to wait while he announced their presence to the Earl. Again John stared in wonder at the opulent surroundings, as Sherlock appeared bored, until an excited feminine voice echoed across the hall.

"Sherlock!" Exclaimed a rather stunning young woman, her blue eyes wide and bright in her soft oval face, her long blonde hair waving softly behind her as she raced across the entrance hall, flinging her arms around him in a tight embrace. Her radiant smile faltered somewhat though, as his arms merely hovered uncertainly either side of her, rather than return the embrace. She pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes hesitantly. "What? Do you not remember me?"

Sherlock's shocked expression quickly melted into a fond smile, re-igniting hers, though his posture was no less awkward. "Elsie. Of course I hadn't forgotten you. You took me by surprise is all. You've grown rather a lot since I last saw you." His eyes scanned quickly down her, obviously seeing more than her snug angora tunic jumper and designer skinny jeans.

"So have you." She replied with a flirtatious tone "Though some things never change. You still have your curls." Her fingers reached up into them as she spoke, taking a light grip and using it to pull his face down towards hers, tilting her face up so their lips could meet.

Sherlock quickly but gently turned his face away, catching the look of shock on John's face as he did. Elsie relented, letting go of his curls and lowering her face in a pout, looking up at Sherlock from under her eyelashes.

"What, no kiss?" She inquired.

"I don't think my wife would approve." Sherlock replied, with a small smirk.

"Oh!" Elsie gasped, stepping back properly, glancing down at his hand and the ring on it, before her eyes dropped to herself, straightening her jumper. "Of course. Silly of me not to think you'd be… of course, you would be married, what sane girl would pass up a man like you?" She said, trying to regain her dignity, though still rather flustered.

Sherlock couldn't resist a smile at the boost to his ego. "And what about yourself? I'm surprised you would have no young man of your own." He inquired. He had read the signs of her singleness, and couldn't make sense of it given her flirtatious personality.

"Oh, I've had my share of admirers" She sighed "A stupid bunch of rich boys, who think money, looks and athletic prowess is all they need to impress a woman. Barely a brain cell between the lot of them. Not like you. After you I could never settle for anyone of less than moderate intelligence." She gave him another admiring smile, before finally noticing John beside him. "And who is your friend? I don't believe we have been introduced."

"How rude of me." Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes so only John could see, as her attention was no longer on him. "Lady Elsabeth Buckley, meet Dr John Watson, former Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers." Sherlock reeled off their full titles.

"Pleased to meet you." John politely smiled, offering his hand for a handshake.

"Oo, Brains _and_ brawn." Elsie, smiled, taking his hand.

"And, also married." Sherlock pointed out.

"All the best ones are." Elsie grumbled, letting John's hand go and stepping back again. "So, you're here about Lottie's ring, and the other jewellery I take it?"

"That is correct."

Elsie's lip quirked in a conspirational smile. "Bit ironic, my Father hiring you to catch a jewel thief, don't you think?"

"To catch a thief, you must think like a thief. Isn't that right, Mr Holmes?" A voice boomed from above them. They looked up to see the Elsie's Father, Earl Buckley, standing on the first floor balcony above them. He was a rather large man, with a jolly face, sporting a rather bushy moustache. His 3 piece suit reminded John of Mycroft's, albeit in a much larger size.

"Technically I didn't steal the ring, since it never left your property. I simply relocated it, from your wife's jewellery box, to Elsie's finger." Sherlock replied with a sly smile, his eyes meeting Elsie's with a fond glint of remembrance.

"Mmhm. And what about the other trinkets that disappeared after your visits?" The Earl countered, with a fondness that suggested no harm done.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." Sherlock replied coolly.

The Earl laughed heartily at his response. "It's good to see you again, Sherlock. But we can't stand around all day reminiscing; we have business to discuss. Come on up to my office, it's…"

"The third on the left. I have a good memory." Sherlock finished for him. The Earl laughed again, nodding before heading back to the office himself.

"So, I guess I'll be seeing you around?" Elsie asked.

"Possibly for a few days, depending on how long it takes to crack the case." Sherlock replied.

"Well, good luck." She smiled, nodding to them and dismissing herself. Sherlock smiled at her retreating form, before turning to John.

"Well come on then, let's not keep him waiting."

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_AN: Thanks for all the follows and favourites so far guys, and thanks to ballykissangel, GypsyRose2014, ThouArtPenuin and superlc529 for the reviews. Welcome back my old friends_


	4. Getting Down to Details

**Getting Down To Details**

"Pictures of the pieces of jewellery stolen." The Earl said, fanning the images out on the desk as John and Sherlock took their seats opposite.

Sherlock snatched them up, glancing through the pictures, all of his wife and daughter wearing the jewellery over the years. The items were ringed in red biro to distinguish them from the rest of baubles that adorned the women. He passed each to John after he had examined them.

"The diamond engagement ring was in Charlotte's bag downstairs at the reception, but the pearl necklace and earrings, and the gold bracelet were upstairs, in Minerva's jewellery box in our bedroom." The Earl continued explaining.

"So whoever stole the jewellery was at the party, not a separate break-in coinciding with the event." John suggested, glancing over at Sherlock for confirmation.

"Obviously. Who had access to the upper floors? Anyone staying in the guest rooms?" The detective asked.

"Only mine and Minerva's parents. And it was out of bounds to the rest of the guests."

"What about staff?" Sherlock fired off as soon as the Earl finished his sentence.

"I did have extra staff for the event, but upstairs was out of bounds for them also." The Earl answered "Only my regular staff would have been upstairs."

"So someone was where they shouldn't have been." Sherlock mused. "I presume the event was videoed? And there will be plenty of pictures too I imagine. I'll need them all." He held out a flash drive to the Earl, who took it with only a moment's hesitation, jiggling the mouse on his computer to wake it up.

"Of course. Though I have already been through the footage myself and found nothing of importance -"

"That's why I'm here." Sherlock cut him off. "You were looking for the theft; I'll be looking for the thief, and that is why I'll find them."

"You're certain you can catch the thief then?" The Earl asked, passing back the drive, filled with files.

"Of course. The question is whether I can recover the jewellery before they can sell it, if they haven't already." Sherlock pointed out "Not that I couldn't track it down if they have. But that would be tiresome."

"Well you can expect to be handsomely remunerated for your efforts, especially if you can recover the jewellery." The Earl promised.

"Thank you" John quickly replied, before Sherlock could dismiss the offer as he usually did.

"So I assume that's all." Sherlock declared, getting to his feet.

"If that's enough for you. Though you're welcome to have a look around, or question any of the staff if you need to." The Earl offered, also getting to his feet to shake Sherlock's hand.

"That won't be necessary." Sherlock assured him, noting that the Earl's handshake wasn't as firm as it had been years before.

"Well then. Give my regards to your Mother, and Mycroft of course." The Earl told him, as he walked them to the door. "Oh, and I heard you have a little one on the way. Congratulations. I imagine it won't be long before Charlotte has one of her own. Wouldn't it be nice if your children could play together, like you and the girls used too?"

"Well she's not pregnant yet, best not get ahead of ourselves." Sherlock replied, after a nudge from John reminding him to be tactful, or polite, or something like that.

The taxi that had bought them was long gone when they got outside, so Sherlock googled and dialled a local cab company as they made their way down the long, winding driveway. As he hung up the phone he noticed John glance at him and grin to himself, as he had done many times since their arrival. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Just say it, whatever you're smirking about."

"Nothing… just… Elsie, huh?" John smiled, curiosity and laughter barely contained. She had come back to see them off, giving Sherlock another hug and kiss on the cheek, before shaking John's hand.

"She was just an old playmate, John." Sherlock told him stiffly.

John snorted in disbelief. "More like childhood sweetheart, from what I could see."

"Hardly. Though she was clearly infatuated with me when we were younger, the feeling was never mutual, though I did enjoy her company as a friend."

"But you kissed her, before. Don't bother denying it, the way she went to kiss you when we arrived was far too familiar." John pointed out.

Sherlock sighed, knowing he had been caught out. "Once. The last time we visited, though we didn't know that at the time. It was an experiment. I wanted to understand what the big deal was with kissing, and I knew she would be a suitable and willing subject. _And_ I wanted to see if I could manipulate her into giving me her sweeties."

John snorted again, letting the laughter bubble forth. Sherlock joined him in a small chuckle, seeing the humour in the situation looking back.

"And did you get them?" John asked through giggles.

"Only one." Sherlock smiled fondly.

"Okay… so what about the 'trinkets' her Dad accused you of nicking? Did you?"

"A silver letter-opener caught my fancy over the time I was there. The ring was practice for it." Sherlock smirked.

"I knew it." John laughed. "What else, he mentioned more than one?"

Sherlock shook his head, laughing too. "The other one wasn't me. I saw who it was though. One of the maids took a silver cigar lighter. She wasn't light fingered by nature, but she needed the money for something… a family problem I'm sure, though I was too young and didn't have enough information to deduce exactly what. I kept her secret though."

John smiled, but then wrinkled his brow. "You don't think-"

"No. She's not our jewel thief. She doesn't work at the house anymore. I could tell by his shelves." Sherlock waved the idea off.

"His shelves? _How?_" John asked incredulously.

"The dusting. When she used to clean in there she would stand on a chair to dust the top shelf, since she was too short to see it. Whoever cleans it now just reaches up blindly, leaving wavy lines in the dust." Sherlock explained "She was nearing retirement age when I used to visit, so it's no surprise she's gone now."

"Right. So –"

Whatever John was going to say next was cut off by two things: their taxi pulling up, and Sherlock's text tone. Sherlock pulled out his phone, giving the brief explanation of "Molly" as he got in the taxi, replying to his text and letting John give the driver instructions.

_When are you coming home? X_

_Leaving now. X – SH_

_I'm craving pizza X_

_I'll pick you one up. 9" Pepperoni? X – SH_

_Make it a 12" Love you X_

John looked over at Sherlock, smiling at his phone, and smiled himself, thinking whatever had been between Sherlock and Elsie in the past, there was only one girl for him now.


	5. Troublemaker

**Troublemaker**

"Are those pop-tarts? I thought you were craving pizza?" Sherlock asked, dropping the pizza box and his phone on the table before walking through to the living room to take off his coat and scarf.

"You were taking too long. Pop-tarts were all I could find. I'll still manage the pizza though. Eating for two, remember; pop tarts for the baby, and pizza for me." Molly told him sweetly, struggling up from the kitchen table and waddling through the door to the living room, to watch Sherlock. "And you can have a slice or two of the pizza. None of this not-eating-while-working stuff. How was the case anyway?"

"The case is a fairly straight forward theft, nothing exciting. Turns out the family hiring me are old family friends from my childhood though." Sherlock explained finishing taking off his things and ushering her back into the kitchen, pulling out the chair for her to sit back down.

"Well that's nice." Molly smiled up at him, her eyes flicking to the pizza box.

Sherlock picked up the pizza box and carried it over to the side to dish up. "If you say so." He muttered, digging for knives and forks. Suddenly his phone began ringing from the table. "Who is it? He asked Molly.

"Mycroft." Molly answered, looking at the caller ID.

"Ignore it." Sherlock instructed, moving on to searching for plates.

"Sherlock!" Molly protested. For a second he thought she had complied with his request though, as the ringing stopped. And then his brother's voice filled this kitchen, on speakerphone.

"Good afternoon, dear brother. I hear you've been visiting old friends this morning. How are the Buckleys?"

"Politics is your job, not mine Mycroft. I assumed you were up to date with all the goings on in the Upper Classes." Sherlock replied with disinterest.

There was a pause from Mycroft, and Sherlock could almost see him pursing his lips in annoyance.

"I know Lottie was recently married. And that Elsie still isn't. In fact she's not so much as seeing anybody. Never has. Her Father is under the impression that the poor lonely girl has never even been kissed… but you and I both know that isn't true." Mycroft said, aiming low in his comeback.

Sherlock's step faltered on the way to the table, his eyes meeting Molly's wide ones with a wince.

"Was there a reason for your call, _Brother_, besides upsetting my wife with idle gossip?" He snapped at the phone.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the phone. "Molly. My apologies. I didn't realise you were listening in."

Molly's mouth opened and closed several times, still too shocked to come up with an adequate response. Finally she managed a breathless and shaky; "H…hello. M…Mycroft."

Another pause from the end of the line. "I merely wished to request you pass on my congratulations to the happy couple, and regards to the rest of the family, Sherlock" Mycroft answered his brothers' question with a surprising level of uncertainty.

"Tell them yourself." Sherlock muttered, pushing the end call button and sliding the phone off the table, into his pocket with one hand, while the other laid the plate of food before Molly. Once both his hands were free, he wrapped his arms around Molly, drawing her into him, despite her lame attempts to push him away.

"Molly… Molly, don't be silly, come here. What Mycroft was referring to… it was years ago, and it has no relevance."

"You told me old friends, not an old girlfriend." Molly mumbled unhappily.

"Because she's not. We were children for goodness sake. We kissed once, out of curiosity, and that was it."

"Is she pretty?" Molly mumbled, after a few seconds contemplation of his words

Sherlock was pleased her face was still pressed against his chest, so she couldn't see him rolling his eyes at her line of thought. "Wait here… you might as well start on that pizza, before it gets cold." He told her, releasing her from his arms, and striding quickly into the living room, snatching up his laptop and bringing it back to the table. He set it down for Molly to see and withdrew the flash drive with the files from the Earl. He plugged it in and opened up the photos, scrolling through quickly, before opening up one of the bride and her 4 bridesmaids laughing, letting it fill the screen. He pointed to Elsie, over on the far left. All the other girls were looking at her, clearly the source of the joke. She looked beautiful in her pale blue bridesmaid dress, which brought out her eyes perfectly, with the help of some very professionally applied make-up. Molly let out a soft 'oh' of disappointment.

"Of course I remember her very differently; as a child, not a woman. But I suppose even then she would have been considered pretty. She's pretty. Rich. Gregarious. Thirsty for knowledge. And wants me." Sherlock watched her lips quivering at his words, but went on, determined to make his point. After his description he crouched to be on her level, gently nudging her chin to make her turn and look him in the eyes. "But she's nothing compared to you."

Molly burst into tears, flinging her arms around him and squeezing tightly. Sherlock was concerned for a moment, that he had only upset her more. It was times like this he wished John was around, to explain to him where he had gone wrong. Then he heard her sob "Oh Sherlock…. You always say such… perfect things." And he allowed himself a victorious smile, before patting her back, and easing her off him, sitting her back up.

"Okay, I think your pregnancy hormones have got the better of you a bit. Just calm yourself down, and finish your pizza, okay? I have to work to do." He told her.

"But you didn't get a plate for yourself." Molly argued weakly, looking at the whole pizza on her plate.

Sherlock just smirked at her, snatching a slice off her plate and sitting opposite her with it, turning the computer towards him so he could carry on investigating the photos while he ate.

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_AN: Thanks again guys for the reviews, nice to hear that you're enjoying it. :)_


	6. The Highest Bidder

**The Highest Bidder**

"I think I've found them." John skipped the pleasantries as Sherlock answered his phone. When Sherlock had dropped him off after their visit to the Buckley's manor, he had given him one job; scour internet auctions for the stolen goods, as it was the most likely place for the thieves to cash in on their ill-gotten gains.

"Send me the link." Sherlock asked, holding the phone with his shoulder as he paused the wedding video and opened his emails, just in time to see John's arrive. The link took him to eBay, to a shop containing what looked to be all the stolen items, as well as a few others; no doubt from a previous scoop. Sherlock checked them thoroughly against the pictures the Earl had given him.

"That's them alright. _Rookie_ mistake, selling them all under the same username like that. Well done, John."

"So, what now? Do you want me to report it?" John asked "There's a button here-"

"Do **not **click that button, John." Sherlock instructed. "If they know we're onto them they'll just withdraw the items from the sale. Maybe make a new account to sell from, maybe sell it elsewhere entirely. Either way, we lose them."

"I don't think eBay would let them – "

"And how can a faceless website stop them? Really, John. They can suspend the account, but not a lot more. The criminals themselves could be using fake names, and have their listed address as a P.O box, they would be untraceable via the website."

"Okay, then how are we going to…. Wait, did you just _bid_on them?" John asked incredulously, seeing a newest high bid on all of the Buckley's items.

"It's the easiest way to get them back, don't you think, John. The auction ends in 26 hours, I've set my maximum bid high enough, I don't imagine I'll be outbid." Sherlock told him confidently.

"But… that's a lot of money, Sherlock." John pointed out, quickly adding up the bids on all the items in his head.

"And yet, barely a fraction of what those little trinkets are worth." Sherlock told him "I suppose getting the full value isn't the thieves concern, they just want as much as they can get for them. Don't worry about the money, we can report the items once we have them. If there is one thing an internet investigation can achieve, it's getting your money back. Besides, the Earl did promise a handsome reward for the return of the jewels. Not that it matters much to me."

"Obviously not, if you have that much money to throw around." John muttered. "Anything else you need me to do?"

"Make sure someone is home to accept the jewellery when it's delivered, it'll probably need to be signed for. My address is far too recognisable to have them delivered here." Sherlock instructed. "I haven't finished checking through the video for the thieves yet, but I will let you know when I find them, if I need to."

"You'd better. You know the rules." Was John's parting remark. Of course, rule 2; no running off alone on cases. Molly had made sure John knew the rules too, so he could ensure that Sherlock stuck to them.

Sherlock reopened the video file, continuing his evaluation of the guests at the wedding. After about 5 minutes Molly came up behind him, her hair still slightly damp from a shower brushing his cheek as she rested her chin on his shoulder and her arms encircled his body.

"Any progress? I heard you talking." She asked softly, her eyes also following the movements of the screen.

"John called. He's found the jewellery. I just need to find the thief." He replied with a hint of frustration at himself for not having spotted them already. Molly picked up on his tone easily.

"You will. I know you will." She reassured him. She had just started heading for the sofa, and her book on the arm of it, when she heard his excited gasp, and turned back with a smile.

"Oh that is brilliant." Sherlock muttered to himself. "Molly, Molly listen to this." He went back a little and replayed the part he had just watched, as she came back over.

"I'm getting… people talking? And the band warming up." She said, perplexed at what he expected her to hear.

"No, not just warming up, though I suspect that's what they expect people to think. Usually when bands warm up, they play scales, arpeggios, little pieces of songs coming up in the set. What she just played was none of the above. Musically speaking it made no sense, not in key or tune, just a random mash of notes." Sherlock explained.

"Maybe that's all it was." Molly suggested.

"No! Look at her face, she's concentrating on it. It's deliberate. But no musician would deliberately compose a piece of music that bad. Unless…" Sherlock trailed off, his eyes wide with his discovery.

"Unless what?" Molly prompted.

"When is a piece of music not a piece of music? When it's a _cypher_."

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_AN: I'd forgotten how much quicker I write when fueled by reviews. Took me months to stock up on a few chapters so I would be ahead when I started posting, but now I'm knocking them out at a fair pace. So thank-you very my review team, my inspiration, you are far better than any caffeine-infused concoction I could drink. :D_


	7. Decryption

**Decryption**

"So, here is a basic scale, consisting of 7 notes, A through G." Sherlock explained, drawing it on a piece of paper as Molly watched over his shoulder, before holding it up to the webcam for John to see also. "That's 7 letters already in place, the perfect starting point for a musical cypher. It's a wonder no one has come up with something like this before."

"Okay, but you can't say much with just 7 letters. So where do they get the other 19 letters of the alphabet from?" John asked, reeling Sherlock back onto track with explaining, rather than marvelling at the code.

"Well for starters there are semi-tones, sharps and flats. Assign different letters to those, and that brings us to 12. With two variations on the sets of notes you would have a 36 letters, a complete alphabet, with notes to spare!" Sherlock told them, getting more and more excited as he went along. He looked back and forth between his two companions, waiting for them to catch on.

"So…. What are the variations?" John asked. It might earn him an insult about his intelligence, but was the quickest way to an answer.

"Isn't it obvious?" Sherlock asked, looking earnestly confused. He turned back to look at Molly, his eyes practically begging her to give him the answer he was looking for.

"Sorry." She told him, earnestly "Perhaps you could explain it to us."

Sherlock gave them both one last disbelieving glance, before the answer burst forth from his lips.

"Note lengths! Crotchets, quavers and semibreves. It took some playing on my part, using more traditional decryption methods, but I finally worked it out. Crotchets, are A through J, Quavers L through U, and then A to E as Semibreves gives u and Z." He scribbled furiously as he talked, drawing out the key for them on an empty music sheet. "Now, listen…" He played the clip from the party again. "Did you get that?"

Again he was met by blank faces.

"Er, Sherlock. I may have played clarinet in school, but I can't work out the notes by ear. And I don't think Molly can either." John told him.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a second, only just biting back a disparaging comment. It could be so lonely when nobody else could keep up with him. Insults were a defence mechanism, but it wouldn't help to push away the two people who at least tried to follow.

"She's saying 'The ring is in the wife's bag. There will be more upstairs.'" Sherlock sighed, letting his eyes open again. "Instructing the other members of the band where to find the jewellery. She and her husband play a few slower songs on their own first, for the first dance and so on, while their 2 younger bandmates, sons by the looks of them, use the distraction to make the heist. Then they return and take their places on stage to play some more upbeat songs for the rest of the evening. Nobody suspects a thing." He explained, the excited smile returning to his face. "Very clever, this case has proved to be more interesting than I originally thought."

"H…how much more interesting?" Molly asked.

Sherlock turned back to her, hesitantly. He winced slightly at his words, knowing there was no way he could take them back now. Lying to her wouldn't work either.

"A Seven. At least." He admits.

Molly pursed her lips, looking sideways. He hadn't known from the start… and it would be childish to insist he drop the case just because it had gotten that bit more interesting. On the other hand though, she had been wishing the case over since discovering about Elsie…

"Well it's a good thing we're almost done then." John said, seeing the tension between them. "We'll just report our findings to the police so they can arrest the thieves, and deliver the jewellery back to the Buckley's when it comes, and case closed."

Molly visibly relaxed, Sherlock didn't look any less uncomfortable.

"Actually John, it's not quite as simple as that. My experience with the police force tells me that most senior officers would be unlikely to take my music cypher evidence seriously. Lestrade of course, knows better, but unfortunately it's not his division. Besides, our thieves have already left his jurisdiction. Even if he did put in a call for us to another DI, they still would not take our evidence seriously. We need something more concrete to convict them. To catch them red-handed if possible." Sherlock explained.

"When you say the thieves have left Lestrade's jurisdiction… they're not in London anymore are they?" Molly was quick on the uptake.

"No." Sherlock admitted. "Their Facebook page suggests the next few shows they will be doing will be in Bath. It's only a couple of hours away."

"Only?!" Molly spluttered.

"Perhaps I should…" John's hand moved on his mouse, ready to close the connection and give them a little privacy.

"No, John wait. Molly, please, you can't ask me to drop a case right in the middle… not when things are just getting interesting." Sherlock pleaded.

"That's what I'm worried about. The baby is so close Sherlock…" Her hand stroked over her bump "Only a couple of weeks left."

"It won't take even a week. I promise. They've got a show tomorrow night, me and John can drive up for it, and be back the same night."

Molly bit her lip as she thought it over.

"Okay. But John, you take care of him for me. Don't let him out of your sight." Molly said, turning to the screen.

"Of course." John agreed dutifully.

"And you… keep your phone on you. Maybe text me, every now and then. So I know you're okay." She told Sherlock.

"Of course, though it's hardly necessary. What could possibly go wrong?"

* * *

_AN: I just remembered, I meant to ask you guys something. What do you think the name and gender of the baby should be? I know a lot of people go for a son called Hamish, cos of John, but I don't know if I want to do that. So any comments or suggestions in your reviews would be lovely, even if you wouldn't usually review ;)_

_And because I'm beginning to feel like I'm neglecting my regular reviewers a bit, her are some responces to your more recent comments. (Hopefully I'll remember to do this more often)_

_superlc529 - I did wonder where you'd gone, but do'nt worry about it, life is life. Thanks for still doing a comment for each chapter though, I do love your lengthy comments. That's not a bad idea actually, having them meet. Might use that later._

_Rocking the Redhead - makes you wonder doesnt it?_

_JoBabeAlly - Thanks :D_

_ThouArtPenguin - Haha, thanks. Any reason in particular?_

_Empress of Verace - Welcome aboard, and thanks :)_

_See you all tomorrow ;)_


	8. What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

**What Could Possibly Go Wrong**

As it turned out, catching them wasn't quite so simple after all. They'd been to two shows, neither of which had been a setting for a heist.

"Maybe it was just a one off?" John suggested. "Maybe we should be focusing on the Buckley's jewellery. It's probably not too late to get them back and have them fingerprint tested."

"We know it wasn't a one off John, they had other items for sale on their eBay from previous heists, remember? And the criminals we are chasing are smart, too smart to have made a mistake like handling the jewellery with bare hands. Besides, the idea of me visiting the Buckley's again concerns Molly far more than our day trips to Bath. I still haven't figured out how to tell her about the dinner invitation they extended to us for next month."

John snorted. "I'm sure she'd rather know sooner than later."

"Of course. As _soon_ as she has our lovely baby sleeping her arms, to satisfy her pregnancy hormones and remind her that she's the one I love. It's all about timing with women." Sherlock winked. "Maybe I'll even forge a card from them, to congratulate us on the baby and extend the invitation. She can't say no to that."

"Unless a real card from the Buckley's shows up after it. You'd be in trouble then." John pointed out.

"Hmm… true. Either way, it is a matter for another day. We're here." Sherlock said, pulling the car up outside the famous roman baths and pump room and sliding smoothly out, tossing the keys casually at one of the valet's hired for the event. The event was a charity ball for the rich and famous, a whole red carpet affair at which Sherlock didn't look even slightly out of place. John on the other hand, felt rather incongruous. As advised by Sherlock, he had worn his best suit, but it still looked cheap next to Sherlock's designer garb. He stuck close to his friend on the way in, resisting a sigh at the insinuating looks he received being admitted as Sherlock's plus-one. He didn't know how Sherlock had got himself on the guest list in the first place, but didn't ask.

They found themselves a quiet corner table in the reception room, with a good view of the stage. John straight away made the most of the free food, helping himself to the bowl of canapés at the centre of the table.

"Mm, these are nice, you should try one."

"You know I don't eat when I'm working." Sherlock muttered, not taking his eyes off the stage, and their target setting up on it.

"Well it's not like you've got anything better to do until they make a move." John shrugged, popping another prawn in his mouth.

Sherlock looked at the prawns with contempt, but ate one anyway, turning back to the stage. A few people came up and tried to engage him in conversation, but quickly left again or ended up chatting to John instead, since Sherlock's disinterest in conversation was clear. Finally though, something did catch his attention. The female musician, alone on the stage in front of the piano, playing a string of notes.

_Your presence at our shows has been noted, Mr Holmes. Meet us by the Baths. Five minutes._

John looked up at the sound of the piano also, but didn't know what it meant. What he did know, was that look on Sherlock's face; like a dog catching a scent.

"What did she say?" he enquired with fake casualness.

At first he wasn't sure Sherlock had heard him, as he still looked miles away, but then Sherlock shook his head and looked at him.

"She uh… it was instructions. Guest's coats have been taken into the Kingston Drawing Room. They intend to pick the pockets." He lied smoothly.

"Right. So we wait until the time is right and catch them in the act, yeah?" John asked, swallowing the lie without question.

"Obviously. Excuse me a moment." Sherlock got up, smoothing down the front of his jacket as he did so. John's eyebrows slid together, and his hand twitched, as if about to grab Sherlock's sleeve to detain him.

"Where are you off too?" he asked suspiciously "Molly said to stick together."

"Yes, but I'm sure I can handle going to the toilet by myself. I've been bursting since we got here, but couldn't afford to miss the code, you would never have understood it. We've still got at least 10 minutes before anything else happens, I will be back by then." Sherlock lied again.

"Alright… but if you're not back in 5 minutes, I will come looking." John warned him. Sherlock answered with an eye roll, as he turned and walked away in the direction of the toilets.

As soon as he was out of John's sight, Sherlock changed direction, making his way out to the baths. Light spilled out from the terrace above, along with voices from the party, but down here it was still and quiet. In the shadow of a pillar he saw a figure lounging. Sherlock approached with his confident stride, unaware until too late of two more figures lurking in the shadows. He felt as they stepped out behind him, but didn't have time to dodge or shout before the blow to the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

* * *

_AN: Mwhahaha, you were right, those words were asking for trouble. Thanks for the MASSIVE response to my question about what you wanted the baby to be. There far to many comments for my to answer you all individually, but thank you to you all. It seems there was a definite preference for what the baby should be, so I'm going with that, but unless you already know from sneaking a look at the reviews yourself, I'm not going to tell you what until later, so you can enjoy the big reveal at the same time as our lovely parents :P _


	9. Premature

**Premature**

"So, what are we watching tonight, TV or a movie?" Mary asked, drying up the last plate, as Molly let the water out of the sink. They had done the same the other 2 nights this week that their husbands had been in Bath; dinner, washing up and then TV or a couple of movies, until the men came home and found them both asleep on the sofa.

"I looked through the TV times earlier, there's nothing I particularly want to watch on." Molly answered.

"Film it is then." Mary agreed, digging through Molly's cupboards for the popcorn they had stocked up on, as Molly lowered herself awkwardly onto the sofa and picked up the remote, opening the film library on the Smart TV to search for a film. Thankfully both women had similar taste in films, and they soon settled on an old 90's chick flick, that neither of them would have been able to get away with watching if their husbands were home.

They were about halfway through when Mary noticed Molly tense up, arms wrapping around her belly, and eyes squeezed shut.

"Molly? Are you okay?" She asked, pausing the film and turning to her friend in concern.

"It's fine, I'm fine." Molly gasped "It's just a Braxton Hicks… false contraction. I get them quite a lot, the baby is so close now. It'll be over soon just… carry on."

Mary still looked concerned, but nodded, and pressed play again. She only relaxed when Molly did, a few minutes later. They kept watching the film for another half hour, with Molly tensing again every 10 minutes, until Mary couldn't bear to do nothing about it anymore.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Did you want some water? Or I can give you a massage if you like, I'm good at massages. " She offered.

"No no it's fine…. It's fine." Molly insisted, "It sometimes help if I move…" She pushed herself up and started shuffling forward on the sofa to get up. As she put her hand down behind her on the sofa for leverage her eyes went wide, lifting her hand back up and looking at the dampness on her palm. Mary looked from her hand back to the seat, where the wet patch was clearly visible on the sofa and on Molly's skirt.

"Molly is that… did your waters just break?"

"No no no, not now… it's too early, it's not supposed to be until next week. And he's not here, Sherlock's not here." Molly cried, giving up on getting up and just rocking slightly to ease the pain of the contraction.

"It's okay, just stay calm." Mary told her, trying not to panic herself. "Early births happen, and if that's what it is we'll just have to deal with it. We'll phone Sherlock, he'll come back. He'll be here in time, okay? You call him, I'm going to call the hospital to let them know you're gonna be coming in early."

Molly nodded and grabbed her phone from the arm of the sofa, selecting Sherlock's number and pressing it to her ear, eager to hear his voice. As the phone kept ringing without an immediate answer, Molly began to worry, and when his voicemail kicked in she let out a wail of distress before redialling and trying again. This time it went straight to voicemail.

"Molly?" Mary asked, having finished her brief phone call to the hospital.

"He's not answering. Dammit, he's supposed to answer!" Molly moaned.

"He'll never change…" Mary muttered, "Try John, John will answer."

Molly nodded, and after leaving a quick voicemail for Sherlock, she scrolled down to John's number instead. She breathed a sigh of relief when he picked up on the second ring.

"Hello Molly, everything okay?" he asked with doctorly concern.

"Nonotreallyi'mgoingintolabourandSherlockwon'tanswerhisphone." She explained so quickly it all rolled into one "Can you pass me over please?"

"Oh! Okay… hang in there, I'll just go get him, and then - "

"Go get him? You mean he's not with you? You weren't supposed to let him out of your sight!" Molly exclaimed, exchanging a look with Mary.

"Just relax, okay Molly. Don't get worked up. He just went to the toilet is all, I saw him less than 5 minutes ago." John reassured her, in full doctor mode. "Just hold on a sec…. Sherlock! Sherlock are you in here?..." The sound of his calls were distant, as he held the phone away from him while shouting for Sherlock. Then there was a rustle as he tried to cover the speaker, but not successfully enough for them not to hear his rather loud cursing.

"He's not there, is he?" Molly groaned, closing her eyes in weary defeat.

"Molly, I'm so sorry, I don't - "

Mary snatched the phone out of Molly's drooping hand and cut off her husband's excuses.

"You listen to me, John Hamish Watson. I'm taking Molly to the hospital now. You find Sherlock, and you get him there before this baby is born, or you will be sleeping on the sofa for a month, you understand?"

"Yes Ma'am." John replied, the soldier in him reacting to the command in her voice.

"And do be careful. Love you."

* * *

"Love you too."

John allowed himself a brief smile for his wife, before hanging up the phone and refocussing his attention on the issue at hand. He took a big breath, shook his head angrily, and ran back across the banquet hall, eyes scanning for any sign of Sherlock. He took the doors out onto the terrace, onto which the party spilled, but there was still no sign of him. He stopped for breath by a window looking down onto the Baths, and that's when he saw them. Two men, dragging an unconscious form, which could only be Sherlock, towards a side gate. After letting another swear word fly, and apologising to some ladies nearby for it, John raced away again, heading down to the Baths to rescue Sherlock.

Sprinting out into the courtyard John saw a van, with the two men who had been dragging Sherlock getting into it. Putting on a last burst of speed he ran to the back of it, pulling on the handles, but finding them locked. The van pulled away under his hands, and John tried to run round the side to the driver, to stop him, but couldn't keep up as the van gathered speed. It was all he could do to memorise the number plate, before trudging back to the party, where the other half of the band had started their act. He settled himself at a table near the front and waited. When the show was over, he was getting some answers, and getting Sherlock back.

* * *

_AN: Well done to ThouArtPenguin for correctly seeing that one coming, even if she and Empress of Verace were impatient madames and went and peeked at the reviews to find out what the baby would be :p Not like superlc529m who is being good._

_And Yes to CreamoCrop, Enpress of Verace and RockingtheRedhead, Molly will not be happy with him, when he finally gets there. :)_

_And thankyou to everyone else who commented, or followed or favorited, it means a lot to me :)_


	10. Dissent in the Ranks

**Dissent in the Ranks**

Sherlock came round slowly, feeling a light throbbing in the back of his head where he had been hit. He could hear voices, close but distant at the same time. Outside whatever room he was in, but the walls were thin, and barely muffled the sound. He opened his eyes to confirm his suspicions. He was alone, in a small dark room. Bathroom, in fact. There was a skylight of frosted plastic through which a little moonlight shone, joined by the light from the cracks around the door. His hands were bound together with cable-ties, as were his feet, but still his long pale fingers reached out to what they could, to make silent assessment of details he could not see clearly. The Bathtub was plastic also, as was the sink. Lightweight, cheap. Conclusion: Mobile home. It made sense for the travelling musicians to live in a setup like this. Not the securest prison, but bound, he had significantly less chance of overpowering those outside the door, ostensibly guarding him.

Although, there were other means of escaping guards than overpowering. Judging by the conversation he could hear, it would be only too easy to turn them against one another. It had already begun.

"It was only supposed to be a test to see if he had unravelled our code or not! You weren't supposed to kidnap him!" A female voice protested.

"Well what would you have done? Cos it seemed to me you had no contingency plan for if he did, so I came up with one." A man argued.

"And where does that plan lead to now huh? He couldn't get us convicted on the code, the police would never had believed him, or else he wouldn't have still been trailing us, he'd have handed us over long ago. He was looking for concrete evidence. Knowing whether he knew the code or not was just so we'd know how careful we'd need to be to prevent him getting that evidence. Now though, he has all he needs. We let him go, he goes straight to the police on the charge of kidnapping. He's even got a nice head injury to prove it!"

"So we don't let him go."

"Well we can't keep him prisoner here forever."

"I say we kill him." The voice of a younger man spoke up.

"Nathan!" The woman rebuked, shock in her voice.

"He has a point, Nina. Like you said, we can't keep him here. I doubt bargaining for his silence would work, so we can't let him go. Killing him seems like the only solution." The older man reasoned.

"No! It is not a solution! It'll only be making things worse for ourselves, because there is no way we'd get away with it. He has a friend, remember, at the party. And judging by his glares through the set, and how hard he tried to get to us before we left, he knows we have something to do with Sherlock's disappearance. Sherlock turns up dead in an alley, or doesn't turn up at all, then he'll be pointing the police in our direction."

"So we kill him too."

Sherlock couldn't help but let out a snort of disbelief at this. The idea that this bunch of amateur crooks stood a chance at taking on John was preposterous. They'd got lucky with Sherlock, his overconfidence ever his downfall, but John was far more cautious, they would never be able to get the jump on him like that.

There was a sudden hush outside the door, as his captors heard him and realised that he was conscious. The door opened cautiously, revealing Nina shooing away the other members out of his sight, and her husband standing defiantly in the doorway.

"Something funny, Holmes?" He demanded.

"Oh don't mind me." Sherlock smirked. "I was just wondering how the pair of you ever got together, what with one being almost brilliant and the other so spectacularly stupid. Your code was rather impressive, I must say. And it takes a lot to impress me." He added over the man's shoulder to his wife behind.

"Shut up!" The man snapped. "Don't think I don't see what you're trying to do. Divide us. But it won't work. We're a family. Something I'd doubt you know anything about."

"He has a family." Nina said softly from the back. She put a hand on her husband's shoulder, and after a slight squeeze he let her through, so she could crouch in front of Sherlock. "A wife. And a child on the way, if my research serves me well. How close is it now?"

"Very." Sherlock answered singly. His eyes scanned over the woman in front of him, assessing motives, strengths and weaknesses.

"I bet you're eager to get home then. You wouldn't want to miss the birth of your first child. It's a beautiful thing." She smiled knowingly. "I don't want you it miss it either. I hate the thought of a woman alone in the hospital ward, not knowing where her husband is, or if he'll be returning at all."

Her words struck Sherlock to the core, but he didn't allow an ounce of it to show on his face. She didn't allow his apparent indifference to put her off though.

"I'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement, Sherlock, to make sure that doesn't happen. After all, everybody knows you care more about the excitement and mystery of a case than seeing justice done."

"If you believe what _everybody_ thinks, then you disappoint me. Perhaps you're not as smart as I thought you were." Sherlock announced coldly.

Nina took a big breath, disappointment in her own eyes as she looked at the floor, while getting to her feet. She steeled herself then looked down her nose at him.

"We'll give you some time to think about it. Don't take too long." She told him, turning and walking from the room with her head held high. With one last disdainful look at Sherlock, her husband closed the door behind her, leaving Sherlock once again alone.

* * *

_AN: going back to shorter author notes, since i seem to be getting more reviews of them than I am the story :p Thanks again for all the suggestions for baby names (I have picked now) and for all your other kind words :)_


	11. The Phone

**The Phone**

Sherlock's eyes were closed as he listened. He listened to the footsteps around the caravan, listened to their movements as they got ready for bed. Listened hard to the muffled conversation, further away, about someone staying up to keep watch in case he tried to escape, or in case John found them. He listened as the first set of footsteps, a young man's, approached his door, and then stopped outside it, while the other footsteps retired to bedrooms. He listened to the faint thrum of music through headphones as his guard tried to keep himself entertained. Then he heard the faint snores, as he failed. He heard another set of footsteps, approach, and then walk away again. A few minutes later the smell of coffee drifted through the caravan, and the footsteps returned. The snores were replaced by a small gasp as the lad was woken.

"Go to bed Luke. I'll keep watch." Nina said softly.

"Are you sure?"

"I can't sleep anyway. And obviously you can. No point us both being up."

"Right. Thanks Mum, see you in the morning."

"Goodnight."

The whispered conversation died out, and there was a soft bang against the door, as if Nina had sat down and leaned back against it. The smell of coffee was strong, and very appealing. Sherlock's mouth suddenly felt very dry, and he became very aware that the last drink he'd had was a cup of tea Molly had made him before they left that afternoon.

"Smells good. I wouldn't mind a cup myself. I am rather thirsty." Sherlock said to the closed door, knowing she would be able to hear.

"There are taps in there you know." She replied, though not harshly. There was a smile in her voice.

"That is true. But coffee would be much nicer." Sherlock playfully returned.

There was a soft chuckle from the other side of the door. "I suppose it can't do any harm to get you a cup. How do you take it?"

"Black, two sugars. Thank you"

Again Sherlock heard her walk away, and heard her movements in the kitchen. She returned a few minutes later, bringing the smell of freshly brewed coffee, just the way he liked it. She knocked softly on the door, but didn't open it yet.

"Alright, I'm going to open the door and put the cup on the floor. You just stay back, alright? I don't want no funny business." She told him firmly.

"Wouldn't dream of it." He assured her, keeping his word and staying where he was as she opened the door and slid the plastic cup (one from the top of a thermos he observed) filled with coffee into the room. Through the gap he saw her cup on the floor outside, in a regular mug. Obviously she was being cautious, not giving him anything he could smash and use as a weapon. Not that it was necessary, but he admired her good sense anyway.

"Thank you" He said again, shuffling over once the door was closed, and mimicking her position on the other side; sitting with his back against the door, nursing his coffee cup in his bound hands, careful not to spill any. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes; Sherlock giving her time to relax, before making his next request.

"Do you have my phone?" He asked, injecting as much innocence into his tone as possible.

"It's out here, yes. Why? I'm not giving it to you." She replied suspiciously.

"I didn't think you would… I was just wondering. Molly is really insistent on me keeping it on me now, in case she needs me. Has she tried to text? She'll be worried if I don't text back." He told her, now injecting warm concern into his voice. It wasn't difficult, he was concerned, but wouldn't let it show if he didn't think it could be useful.

There was a pause, before Nina agreed, in a carefully controlled voice, "I'll check for you. But if there is one, you tell me what to type, and I do it. Deal?"

"Thank you. I just don't want her to worry." He milked it for what he was worth. He was getting through to her, he could tell. Making her sympathise. If Molly had left any message, the response he was planning would seal the deal.

He heard the tell-tale tone his phone made when turned on, confirming his suspicion that it had been turned off. It was less than a minute until he heard her gasp slightly, and he smirked victoriously.

"No texts but… you have missed calls from her. And a voicemail." She said nervously.

The smirk dropped right off Sherlock's face, and he could feel the blood draining from his cheeks. If Molly was phoning then in must be something serious, and he didn't like the possibilities. Miscarriage, premature birth… whatever it was, he should be there.

"What does she say?" He asked urgently.

He heard the message playing, but it was too muffled for him to hear. The message was only short, but still he was left in agonising suspense afterwards, and Nina seemed speechless. He heard her footsteps moving away and felt a desperate panic.

"What does she say?!" He demanded again.

The footsteps came back, and Nina opened the door. Or rather tried to, as it was stopped by Sherlock sitting behind it. He quickly shuffled back to allow her entrance, settling back against the bathtub. Nina came in quickly and crouched in front of him, holding a pair of scissors, ready to remove his ties.

"I'm going to let you go, but before I do, I need to tell you something. And hopefully you can pass it on to the police when you turn us in." She took a big breath before continuing. "I never wanted to be part of this. My code, it was meant for much more innocent purposes. Love notes, y'know. That's how it started. Me and Tom's secret little way of communicating. But then… there was the kids, and business wasn't going too well. Debts mounted, you know how it is. Or maybe you don't." She eyed his expensive clothing sadly. "We were desperate, our house had already been repossessed, and we didn't have the money for even a caravan like this." Her eyes glazed over with memories, before snapping back to him. "So that's how it started. Just one big heist, just so we could finish paying up our debts and put a roof over our heads. But when it all went well… Tom enjoyed it too much. He wanted to do it again, and again. It was nice to have the extra money, I have to admit, that's why I didn't protest, but I was uncomfortable with it. But over the last few years… since the boys started getting involved, I really have wanted to stop. We don't need the money anymore, we make more than enough from the shows. I kept trying to tell them, but it was always 'just one more'. Now they don't listen at all. I've considered leaving a couple of times, or even wishing we'd get caught but… it's my _family_. You know? I just couldn't…. but maybe I should have. They'll probably disown me for this anyway but I… this has already gone too far."

And with that, she cut his ties, before helping him to his feet. He held her gaze as she did so, giving her a firm nod, telling her that he understood.

"I should have known." A fiercely angry voice interrupted them from behind. Nina spun to face the door, allowing Sherlock to see past her. Tom stood in the doorway, betrayal written all over his angry face. And in his shaking hands he held a gun, pointing back and forwards between the pair of them.

* * *

_AN: Sorry evil cliffhanger I know... what am I saying, I'm not sorry :p_

_Thanks and welcome to my new readers and reviewers. And to all my other reviews of course, much appreciated as usual :D_


	12. No Hesitation

**No Hesitation**

"Tom? Where did you get a gun?" Nina asked uncertainly. She took a step towards him, but stopped when he focussed his aim on her.

"I've had it a while. Got it from a guy in Manchester, in case of any problems. Never thought you'd be the problem, Nina." He spat.

"Please, Tom. Just think about this. The game is over, we've been found out. From now on the best thing we can do is be as co-operative as possible in hope of a more favourable sentence. If you use that thing you'll only make things worse for yourself."

"No!" Tom shouted "The game is _not_ over yet. I refuse to give up. I don't want go to jail Nina. I don't want our boys to go to jail. Do you? Would you really put them through that?"

"No. But that's why I never wanted them involved in this in the first place! That's why I've been saying to stop for years! Because I knew if we didn't that's where it would lead." Nina told him "And now it's too late. So I'm doing what I can to help-"

"No you're not! If you wanted to help, you'd be helping me come up with a plan to dispose of this guy _without_ the cops finding out. You're the smartest woman I've ever met. If anyone could figure out a way it's you." Tom turned to charm, holding out his hand to Nina, to draw her to his side.

She slapped the hand away.

"No. I'm done being used to mastermind _your_ criminal activities. I'm not helping you _dispose_ of anyone." She told him vehemently.

Tom shook his head, then cocked the pistol. "Then you leave me no choice. Don't worry, I won't tell the boys about your betrayal. I'll tell them _he_ killed you, then I killed him. Actually, that could be quite a good story for the cops too."

Suddenly there was a loud crash, as the frosted glass in the front door of the caravan was smashed out. Sherlock was relieved to see that Tom's gun had previously had the safety on, as the noise caused him to pull the trigger. The second he was over the shock however, he turned it off, bracing himself for whoever was coming through the front door.

"Alright, drop the weapon." John instructed, pointing his own browning through the broken glass with one hand, while his other reached inside to open the door.

"I could say the same to you. Whoever you are." Tom said, his gun now pointed at John. Sherlock considered using the distraction to disarm him, but then thought better of it. John would be able to handle it better than him. Instead he looked to Nina, giving her a nod and small smile to reassure her.

"Captain John Watson." John introduced himself by his military rather than medical credentials, to make a point. "You've never shot a gun before have you? If you had, you wouldn't be holding it like that, the recoil will hit you in the face."

Tom adjusted his grip at John's words, mimicking how John was holding the gun. "Doesn't mean I won't use it though." Tom stubbornly asserted.

"I didn't say you wouldn't" John replied calmly. "But you will hesitate. People always hesitate the first time, especially when shooting at some_one_. Only for about a second, maybe a little more. But in that second between you making the decision to fire, and pulling the trigger; I **won't** hesitate. Last chance. _Put the gun down._"

For a second it seemed like Tom was considering taking his chances, but finally, with a defiant glare, he set the weapon down on the floor.

Sherlock stepped around Nina and scooped it up nonchalantly, while John kept his gun trained on Tom.

"Excellent work, John." Sherlock praised him. "I assume you have alerted the police of our location?"

"There wasn't time." John said, shaking his head. "And there isn't now either. Molly has gone into labour."

Sherlock's eyes widened, having temporarily forgotten the missed calls from Molly, in all the excitement. He turned back to Nina, who nodded and held his phone out for him to take. Instead of taking the phone though, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and giving her a gentle pull out the bathroom.

"No time to lose then. Come along, Nina." He dragged her out the door, heading for the car he could see John had arrived in, while John followed, backing out slowly to prevent Tom from trying anything, and giving only a curious glance to Sherlock's companion.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked nervously, though making no attempt to escape.

"Away. You said you had thought about leaving, and now seems like the best time, does it not? You can ride with us down to London, from there you should be able to get anywhere you wish." He offered, letting go of her hand so she could get in the car voluntarily, or reject it if she chose.

"You're giving me a head start?" She asked in confusion.

"More than that." Sherlock told her, getting into the car and encouraging her to follow suit. "I can give you a favourable word with the police as well. After all, both John and I are witnesses to Tom holding you at gunpoint for attempting to defy him. Shouldn't be too difficult to convince the police that you were acting under duress the whole time." He smirked.

Tears welled in Nina's eyes. "Why?" She gasped out.

Sherlock turned to fix her with a solemn stare as John got in and sent a quick text before starting the car.

"You were wrong when you said I don't care about seeing justice done. I do, I simply have a different view of justice than others at times. You helped me. You wouldn't help them kill me even if it meant dying too. I don't forget that kind of thing." He assured her, before giving her one of his most charming smiles and turning back to the front of the car.

"Thank you" She whispered, before lapsing into silence for the rest of the journey.

* * *

_AN: Again, thanks to everyone for reviews and follows. _

_In answer to Arcoiris' question; John is the patient kind, not the dramatic. He wouldn't make a scene by dragging the band off stage and questioning them in front of a room full of the rich and famous without enough evidence to justify himself to security (of which his military mind would be well aware of) and since all the evidence he has is Sherlock's music cipher theory, that even he doesn't understand, and seeing shadowy figures, whose faces he didn't see, dragging his friend away, and the number plate of the van, i believe he would opt for patience until he has more facts._


	13. A Doctors Opinion

**A Doctors Opinion**

"When did you last speak to Molly? How far along was she?" Sherlock started grilling John as they left Bath on the A46.

"She phoned just after you went to the bathroom. I didn't get a chance to ask many questions, I was too busy getting yelled at for losing you." He gave Sherlock a significant look, "But I don't think she'd been in labour long, an hour maybe less, before they realised it wasn't Braxton Hicks."

"So it's been… 5/6 hours since she went into labour." Sherlock nodded, looking at the clock. His face was pale; the only outward sign of how affected he was. "How long do you think we have?"

"Since it's her first, labour could be 12 to 24 hours even. Even with the hurry it does seem to be in." John told him, with a smile, trying to keep the mood light.

Sherlock bit his lip. He seemed to be having some kind of mental struggle with himself, fidgeting agitatedly. Finally what was bothering him burst forth from his lips.

"John, you don't think there will be any complications, do you? Since it's early. What if it's breech or something? And what about the long term affects?"

John glanced over quickly, surprised by the level of emotion on Sherlock's face. He also noted the phone alight in Sherlock's hand, open on the internet browser.

"Put the phone down Sherlock, if you google it you'll only scare yourself silly. That's the last thing Molly needs when you arrive." He rebuked him gently. He noticed Sherlock grip the phone tighter, though his thumbs were no longer flying over the keys. "Rule of thumb is the earlier the birth, the higher the risk. A week early isn't much at all. The risk is minimal. Your baby should be fine. Really Sherlock, I'm not just saying that to placate you. I know better than that." He added at Sherlock's sceptical look.

Sherlock nodded, wordless with emotion, and turned to look out of the window, hiding his watery eyes from John. He had got used to dealing with emotions since he'd been with Molly, but nothing had prepared him for this rush of emotion he was feeling for his child that would soon be arriving in the world. It scared him, feeling this out of control of his emotions. He just hoped he could get it under control by the time he reached Molly, though he had an unsettling feeling that it would probably only get worse.

"It's so typical isn't it? All the time you spent following the rules, then the one case that breaks them all and Molly goes into labour." John said, picking up on Sherlock's turmoil and seeking to distract him. "You probably missed her phone call by seconds. Or had you already switched the blasted thing off?"

Sherlock saw what he was doing, but allowed himself to be pulled into chatter about the case to distract himself. "No, they must have taken it and turned it off when it started ringing in my pocket. I made sure it was switched back on though." He smirked, glancing in the rear-view mirror at their passenger. He saw the shock on Nina's face that she'd been manipulated, but it didn't seem like she would kick up a fuss about it.

"And just in time too. Y'know I'd forgotten what a pain it was not being able to track you, before we got that app. I'll have to get you chipped in the future." John joked.

Sherlock snorted. "No thank you. I'm surprised you didn't figure out where they would be taking me. It was pretty obvious wasn't it, that a family of travelling musicians would have a caravan. Shouldn't have taken you that long to check out all the local campsites."

"Obvious when you know the answer." John muttered. "My first thought was hotels actually. And there are a fair few in Bath, I can tell you."

They carried on talking about the case most of the way back to London, until finally they arrived at the hospital where Molly was. Sherlock quelled his urge to rush straight in, as there was one thing he needed to do first. He pulled out his wallet as he got out the car, and turned to their passenger.

"You mentioned thoughts of running away before. I assume that means you have some kind of backup plan, family somewhere who can take you in?" He asked.

"Yes. Up North." She nodded quietly, evidently worried about how she'd get there.

"Turn left when you leave the car park, there's a tube station at the end of the road." He told her, holding out his hand to shake hers. As she did, he slipped a note into her palm and leaned close to her ear. "So you don't have to steal again." He whispered, before pulling back.

She gasped as she looked down at the money in her hand. "You don't have to-"

"No, I don't. But I did anyway. Goodbye, Nina. Safe journeys." He said and with a wink he strode away. Long, eager strides, impatient to get to his place by his Molly's side.

* * *

_AN: I know, how cruel of me to keep stretching this out, when all you guys want is to see them together again and for the baby to be born. I did mean for it to go a bit quicker than this, but there was just too much needed to be said in between. Don't worry, it is coming :p Thanks again for the reviews and follows. :D_


	14. I'll Be By Your Side

**I'll Be By Your Side**

"Are you okay?" John asked, almost laughing as Sherlock hesitated outside the door to Molly's room.

"I'm fine." Sherlock snapped, though his voice was a higher than usual and his hand, still hovering halfway to the door handle, was shaking. Then a cry of pain, unmistakably from Molly as another contraction gripped her, spurred him to action, and he flew into the room.

"Where the hell have you been!" Molly growled at him from the bed, doubling up and gripping Mary's hand hard in the pain of the contraction. Sherlock hesitated again in the face of her hostility, but Mary nodded him over with a jerk of her head, slipping her hand out of Molly's and stepping back so Sherlock could take over. The second he offered his still shaking hand to his wife it was snatched up in an iron grip.

"I am so very sorry. Though perhaps now is not the time for explanations, I promise I will tell you everything later." He murmured, stroking her back tenderly with his free hand. The tenderness behind his actions and tone doing more for his case than the apology itself.

With a big sigh, Molly slumped back against the pillows, the contraction over. "That bad huh?" She smiled tiredly, rolling her face towards him. Her mood swing was almost as scary as her wrath.

"Not really. I just figured you have enough on your plate at the minute." Sherlock told her, tucking some of her dishevelled hair behind her ear.

Molly let out a small laugh. "I could use the distraction actually. I'm getting a bit fed up of just lying here waiting for the next contraction to hit, and the doctors say it could be a few hours yet. Ever since John text Mary saying you were on your way back, we've been waiting to hear the story."

"Well then…" Sherlock's smile turned up at the opportunity, and he launched right into the story, with a few interjections from John along the way. He hesitated a little when Molly went into another contraction, but she gasped for him to keep talking, so he did, as his hand ran soothingly over her.

"So that's it now then?" Molly asked when the story concluded.

"The legwork is over, yes. I shall still need to contact the police regarding our thieves, but that can wait." Sherlock replied.

"I don't suppose there's any point setting new rules for the first year. You'll only break them all again." Molly sighed.

Sherlock's lip pulled up at the corner, but he tried to hide it, faking a cough and raising a hand to cover his mouth. Both Molly and John glared at him, as his attempts were fooling no-one.

"I'll promise to be careful, and to only take cases that will in **no **way endanger you or the baby. But I think that's all I can promise."

"And I wouldn't be too sure about the first bit." John commented.

"Close enough, I suppose." Molly sighed, her eyes drifting shut.

Sherlock tenderly stroked her cheek. "You should get some rest" He said softly.

"I'll never sleep with these contractions coming and going." Molly replied wistfully.

"That's why I said rest, not sleep. You two look like you could use some too." Sherlock looked over at John and Mary, who were sharing a seat over the other side of the room and looking like they might fall off any minute.

"You're probably right." John said, looking at his watch and getting to his feet, helping Mary up with him. Mary looked like she was going to say she was fine, but a tiny shake of John's head prevented her saying anything. When they were away he'd explain that Sherlock was asking more for Molly's sake than theirs, and so he could have some alone time with her. "We'll be back some time in the morning. Text us if the little one arrives before we do."

"Of course." Sherlock agreed, accepting a hug from Mary, and another from John (with lots of manly backslaps), before they also hugged Molly and left. Almost as soon as they left Molly had another contraction, and as soon as it was over, Sherlock was urging her to rest.

"What about you? You need to sleep" Molly whispered, her eyes closed.

"I'll be okay without. I'm here for you now. For it all."

* * *

_AN: Okay, I know some of you guys are getting a little fed up of me delaying, but I promise the wait will be over soon, the baby is coming next chapter. Thanks to those who left reviews, and thanks to my now over 50 followers! Very grateful to have you all on board. :D_


	15. The Arrival

**Arrival**

It was 11:23 when the midwife declared that it was time, much to Molly's agreement. She was taken through to the delivery room, with Sherlock faithfully still holding her hand, while John and Mary, who had returned an hour before, went back out to a waiting room. After much screaming, crying, murmured assurances and snapping at nurses for telling Molly to do something as obvious as breathe, the baby was delivered.

"Congratulations. It's a girl." The midwife told them, gently passing the tiny flailing bundle into Molly's arms.

"Oh. Oh look, Sherlock look!" Molly cried in delight, holding the baby to her chest, angled for Sherlock to see.

Sherlock was looking. In all his life he had never understood the fuss people made of babies, but in this moment he did. Something strong welled up inside of him as his eyes took in the tiny limbs, the smaller versions of his own and Molly's features on this daughter's face, and the soft layer of dark hair plastered to her forehead. He blinked rapidly and felt the hot tears sliding down his cheeks.

"She's beautiful." He choked out, causing Molly to tear her gaze away from the baby for a second. She had tears streaming down her own cheeks, but seemed shocked to see such an emotional reaction from Sherlock. He was too, but he didn't fight it, relishing the feelings.

"Yes, she is, isn't she?" Molly agreed, as they both looked back down at their baby.

* * *

"You've just come back from chasing criminals around Bath, and now you're suggesting we go there as a holiday?" Mary laughed

"Maybe not for a little while, but that hotel looked really nice, and you'd love it there, from what I saw of it." John explained, laughing and going a little red from embarrassment.

"Well our anniversary is coming up –"

"Oh, hang on." John felt his phone buzz in his pocket and fished it out. He looked at the text he'd received and broke into a wide smile, before holding it up for Mary to see.

_It's a girl. Come and meet her. Same room as before. – SH_

"Well come on, let's go!" Mary jumped to her feet, barely waiting for John.

When they walked in the room they were surprised to see Molly empty handed, and Sherlock with the baby nestled in his arms. Molly had wanted to hold the baby for longer, but since she had already got to hold her straight after birth, and through her first feeding, she had had to concede that it was Sherlock's turn. The sight was too adorable anyway. He was completely in love, smiling at his daughter and letting her hold onto his finger with a surprisingly firm grip.

"Do we get to say hi, or are you going to hog her all day?" John asked with a tremendous smile, as he and Mary came closer, trying to peer at the bundle in his arms.

"I've barely had her 5 minutes." Sherlock defended, but turned the baby in his arms so they could see her better anyway.

"Awww. She looks so much like you!" Mary exclaimed to Molly "But looks like she's got Daddy's hair, haven't you?" she cooed.

"And the mouth." John pointed out, holding his finger out for the baby to grab. "Have you got a name yet?"

"Well it's certainly not Hamish." Sherlock joked, before turning serious. "We were actually just discussing it before you came in. We, uh… seem to have rather different tastes."

"I can imagine." Mary smiled. "How about… Rebecca?"

Molly seemed to be considering it, but Sherlock crinkled his nose is distaste. "Could you have picked a more common name?"

"Hannah?" John suggested.

Sherlock's eyes flicked over him. "If you want to name a child after your Mother, I suggest it be one of your own."

"Well what do you suggest?" Mary asked him.

"Melody." He suggested after a moment's thought. "It is appropriate, since she was born during a case involving music."

"You want to name her after a case?" John chuckled "And you think I'm bad with my blog."

"It's a sweet thought Sherlock, but I don't think I want her name to be a reminder of the case that almost made you late for her birth." Molly reasoned, putting down his suggestion lightly. Then her eyes brightened with an idea. "How about River?"

Sherlock's eyebrows pushed together. "That's off Doctor Who isn't it?"

"You gave me the idea with Melody" Molly blushed, "But I do quite like the name."

"It's not bad, but it's not quite…" He looked down at their daughter again, as if he was trying to deduce the name of her. She would be intelligent, there was no doubt about it with the good genes behind her. But his brilliance would be tempered by Molly's heart. Somehow he felt the baby would be the perfect balance of the two. She would be wise. She would have a lot of inner strength. She needed a name that would do the amazing woman she would grow into justice.

"Eleanor." He said softly. It was the name of a French queen. And quite a brilliant one if he remembered his history correctly.

"Eleanor." Molly repeated, trying it out.

"It's a bit of a mouthful, but you could always shorten it to Ellie or Nora." Mary suggested.

"Oh that's sweet, I like Ellie." Molly smiled.

Sherlock grimaced a little at the shortening, but he could tolerate it, if it made his wife happy.

"It's settled then." He said "Eleanor Holmes."

"Eleanor May Holmes." Molly suggested, then blushed. "If you don't mind. My Grandma…"

"I think it fits beautifully." Sherlock agreed.

* * *

_AN: And there you have it, the chapter you've all been waiting for. Hope it didn't disappoint, and feel free to leave a review to tell me what you thought of it (or just to say hi)_


	16. A Toby The Cat Special: The Newcomer

**A Toby the Cat Special: The Newcomer**

Toby was agitated. There was something wrong. It had been wrong since last night, since Mummy had left with Blondie. She hadn't even filled up Toby's bowls before she left, and now they were both empty. They had been for hours. Not even Tall Man had come home, as he usually did late at night. Toby didn't know when anyone would be coming back, and it made him anxious. He patrolled the windowsill, watching and waiting, letting out the occasional mew.

Finally there were steps on the stairs, though not those of Mummy or Tall Man. It was the older woman from downstairs, he had heard her come out of her flat. He ran to the top of the stairs, ears back excitedly, and started mewing at the older woman to get attention. As she reached the top of the stairs, he weaved in and out of her legs, still mewing, though careful not to trip her. The old woman chuckled at his antics, and obediently followed him to fill up his bowls, before moving on and doing various other activities around the house. Toby didn't particularly care what she was up to, now he had food. He nibbled up the biscuits eagerly, before moving greedily onto the water, lapping it up like he hadn't drank for days. Once his hunger and thirst were satisfied, curiosity got the better of him, and he went to investigate what the older woman was up to.

She was upstairs. In the rarely used room, with the always-shut door. Toby had been up here once since they had moved into this house, when they had first arrived. The room had been empty of furnishings, but full of scents. The scents of Short Man and Blondie, whose scents had been all over this house when they arrived. Now the room was full of white furnishings and other small soft objects, that all smelt of 'new'. He vaguely remembered Mummy coming home with various new items over the past few months and briefly disappearing upstairs with them. And here they all were, ready for him to explore.

He walked around the edge of the room first, cataloguing the items, and rubbing against those he liked. When he reached the little bed with the cage around it, he leapt over the bars easily, padding around to test the softness of the mattress. Apparently it wasn't for him though, as the old lady lifted him out, and shooed him away. He ran towards the door, stopping in the entrance and checking to see if she was still watching. She wasn't. It was safe to carry on exploring then; just not in the little bed.

Toby's ears pricked as he heard the door downstairs open and close, shortly followed by Tall Man's voice calling up the stairs, followed by a quiet rebuke from Mummy.

Toby flew down both flights of stairs, greeting his humans enthusiastically. It didn't take long for him to sniff out something that wasn't right though. There was the smell of another human with them, but he couldn't see anyone else. But it was there. In the tiny bundle of clothes in Mummy's arms.

A Baby Human.

The older woman followed down the stairs, though it took her much longer than Toby had. She talked excitedly with Mummy and Tall Man, fussing over the bundle in Mummy's arms, all of them completely ignoring Toby. When they carried on upstairs, they continued to ignore Toby, and didn't give him a thought as they carried on, up to the room of new, taking the baby inside and shutting Toby out.

Feeling rather snubbed, Toby held his head high, gave his paw a couple of licks, and stalked away down the stairs. They would come back to him, in their own time. This newcomer wouldn't drive him away.

* * *

_AN: Don't worry, this isn't quite the end, like the other Toby Special. But as my editor reminded me, it has been a while since Toby had a chance to tell his story, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity :) Hope you enjoyed._

_Sorry about not giving personal replies to all your reviews last time, there was rather a delightfully large quantity of them, but thank you very much to all of you. Glad you liked the name. :)_


	17. The Most Interesting Case

**The Most Interesting Case**

"Interesting." Sherlock murmured, as his daughter turned her head towards the door when the doorbell rang. "Look Molly, she recognises the doorbell. But is she looking that way because that's where the sound came from, or because she knows it is usually followed by someone coming through that door? This might require further investigation."

"It won't be followed by someone coming through the door if you don't answer it, Sherlock." Molly prompted him, her hands busy doing up Eleanor's baby grow after changing her nappy.

"Mrs Hudson will get it." Sherlock waved her comment off.

"Sherlock. She's our landlady, not our housekeeper." Molly reminded him, smirking a little at her own impression of the older woman.

"Oh goodness, she's got you at it." Sherlock griped, getting up and going down to answer the door. "Don't worry, Mrs Hudson, I've got it." He told her, as she emerged from her own apartment, about to get the door for him, and looking truly shocked that he was getting it himself.

He opened the door to find an equally shocked looking DI Lestrade.

"You feeling alright, Sherlock?" he asked in laughter-tinted confusion.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Sherlock asked, unamused.

"Well, for starters you're answering your own door." He pointed out. "And then there's the cases I sent this morning. I really didn't think you'd bother with the first, but felt certain the second would grab your attention. Instead, you emailed the answer to the first and completely ignored the other."

"They were both ridiculously obvious, but the latter required legwork. I'm far too tied up for that right now. If you're still stuck on it, I suggest a more thorough investigation of the house itself. The houses on that street are all 3 bedrooms, yet your report only mentions two bedrooms being searched." Sherlock explained

"And you couldn't have included that in your email? We'd have the case solved by now!" Lestrade complained.

An excited squeal came from upstairs, followed by a cat's hiss, and then a baby's cry.

"I was distracted." Sherlock murmured, already turning and hurrying back up the stairs. Since he hadn't closed the door, Lestrade assumed he was invited to follow, eager to meet the youngest Holmes.

"What happened? Did he scratch her?" Sherlock demanded the second he got upstairs, going straight to Molly and lifting the baby out of her arms to examine her himself.

"She grabbed his tail when he tried to run past. I don't think he scratched her, just startled her by hissing." Molly explained, wrapping her arms around herself and looking rather bereft at having her daughter snatched out of her arms again. Post natal depression hadn't hit hard, but she was not unaffected. She knew Sherlock couldn't help himself sometimes, he was so caught up in his adoration of his child, which was a joy to behold, but sometimes he did monopolize her. He did notice Molly's reaction though, and once he was satisfied Eleanor was unharmed, he passed her back apologetically.

Thankfully Lestrade wasn't currently paying much attention to the exchange, engrossed in examining the baby development books strewn over the desk, and the charts and notes pinned to the wall, charting everything from sleeping patterns to fine motor control. He looked over to the kitchen table to see two bottles of milk next to the microscope.

"Please tell me you haven't been experimenting on her, Sherlock?" The detective grimaced, before noticing the baby looking at him, and smiling at her awkwardly.

"They're called observations. All childcare institutions do observations on the children in their care to make sure they're developing correctly. I'm just being more thorough." Sherlock replied haughtily.

"She's less than a week old." Lestrade pointed out, still pulling faces to make Eleanor giggle.

"Oh and yet, there is so much to be learnt from her!" Sherlock said enthusiastically, looking proud.

"Don't worry, I've been making sure he doesn't go too far with her." Molly whispered to Lestrade, though not quite quiet enough for Sherlock not to hear.

"Oh Molly, I keep telling you, she would have been fine. It's a well-known, scientific **fact**that babies are born with the ability to swim. And in the unlikely event she hadn't been able, I would have immediately rescued her." Sherlock protested.

"If you want to take her swimming Sherlock, that's fine, we can take her to the pool and fit her with floats like responsible parents, not just drop her into a completely full bathtub!" Molly argued back.

"I wasn't going to drop her, I was going to let her go lightly. Restricting movement with floats is exactly the reason why most babies struggle to swim, she needs to go without, and so help me if I'm a bit nervous about starting her off in a big pool with other people splashing about. I thought the bath would be a safe option to start with." Sherlock explained, his arguments surprisingly reasonable, despite his unreasonable tone.

"Perhaps I'd better go…" Lestrade said, backing towards the door as he sensed a full blown fight starting up.

"But you haven't even held her yet!" Molly protested, dropping the argument just like that.

"Yes you need to hold her, it's the optimal distance for her to properly take in your face and remember you. She already recognises John and Mary when they come, and Mrs Hudson of course." Sherlock backed her up.

"Oh well, alright." Lestrade smiled, taking Eleanor gently from Molly. It had been a long time since he'd been able to hold either of his like this, and it was a wonderfully nostalgic feeling.

"Eleanor, meet Detective Inspector Lestrade. I know that's a bit of a mouthful, so you can call him Uncle Greg. Or Granddad." Sherlock added with a smirk.

"Oi, watch it you." Lestrade warned.

"Actually I think she prefers that, she smiled when I said it." Sherlock teased.

"Shut up"

* * *

_AN: This one is for superlc529, who pointed out how I had neglected our favorite DI a little in this story. Thanks again for all the reviews and follows :D_


	18. Dinner With Friends

**Dinner with Friends**

Sherlock looked over at Molly, biting her lip nervously as she looked out the window of the cab at the sprawling estate they were driving through. He put his hand on top of hers, on Eleanor's carry-cot between them.

"You look more nervous than you did meeting my Mother." He commented.

Apparently it wasn't a helpful comment, as her face flushed brighter, and her eyes went down to her shoes.

"It was easier with her coming to our flat. This place is so big, I've never been anywhere like it." Molly told him.

"It's just a house. And it's just dinner with friends. Absolutely no reason for you to get nervous." Sherlock said casually. The house was now in view, as the taxi got closer.

"What if they don't like me?" Molly asked quietly.

"They will love you. But even if they didn't, it wouldn't matter. We don't have to socialise with them. After tonight we don't ever have to see them again if you don't wish to."

The car stopped, and Sherlock got out quickly, going round to help Molly out, before taking out Eleanor. He passed their daughter to his wife, before slinging her bag over his shoulder. Who would have known taking a baby somewhere required so much stuff? Fully equipped, he linked his arm through Molly's before striding up the steps and ringing the doorbell.

The door was opened by the butler as before, but they had hardly got in the door before Elsie came hurrying into the lobby to meet them. She came to a stop right in front of them, practically bouncing on her feet. Her eyes had been glued to Sherlock as she approached, but when she reached them, she instead turned to Molly.

"Hello, I'm Elsabeth, but you can call me Elsie. You must be Sherlock's lucky lady. I'm sorry, I didn't get your name." She said, holding out her hand.

"Uh, hi. I'm Molly." Molly said, glancing quickly over at Sherlock before taking Elsie's hand. She was surprised to be pulled closer, for a kiss on the cheek. Elsie was smiling broadly when she pulled back, entertained by Molly's nervousness. "Nice to meet you Molly" She said, before turning her bright smile on Sherlock, and tiptoeing to kiss his cheek too. "And nice to see you too."

"Elsie." He nodded in return, trying to hold back his own massive grin at his wife's reactions to Elsie's exuberance.

Elsie turned back to Molly, holding her breath slightly.

"Can I meet her?" She asked, her eyes bright with excitement, flicking down to Eleanor's carry cot.

After another quick look to Sherlock for reassurance, Molly lifted the cot up and turned it for Elsie, who immediately let out a huge 'aww', before reaching in to pick her up.

"Oh isn't she adorable!" She cooed, cradling Eleanor in her arms "She'll be a heartbreaker just like her Father. What's her name?"

"Eleanor." Molly supplied for her.

"A queen's name? How audacious of you." She smirked at Sherlock, knowingly. "It's perfect."

"Oh Elsie, you could have let our guests at least get out of their coats before you accosted them." Another female voice echoed across the hall. Another young woman entered, closely resembling Elsie, except for her darker brunette hair, pulled back in a bun. Molly recognised her from the wedding photos as Elsie's sister, the recently married Charlotte.

"Lottie. I didn't expect you to grace us with your presence, being as you only got back from your honeymoon late last night." Sherlock greeted her.

"Sherlock. You never change do you? I suppose I should be thanking you really, for getting my ring back to me." She acknowledged, kissing Sherlock on the cheek with less enthusiasm than her sister had.

"Don't mention it." He said with feigned humility.

"Sorry about my sister. She's been so excited." Lottie turned to Molly, kissing her cheek too. "She's already been asking me when I'm going to start making babies. I keep telling her, if she wants a baby that bad she's going to have to start putting more effort into finding someone to make them with."

That got a laugh from Molly, helping her loosen up a bit. Lottie led them through to a comfy sitting room, where the rest of the family had assembled to wait for them. Sherlock made a proper introduction of Molly and Eleanor to the rest of the family, and soon they were all chatting comfortably, though Molly was decidedly _uncomfortable_ with how much attention Elsie was paying to Sherlock. While she could see Sherlock treating her with the same ease of friendship that he did with John, it was clear that Elsie was more admiring of him. There was even something a little off with the way she talked to Molly, like she was trying too hard to be friendly.

Sherlock was not ignorant of the undercurrents between his friend and his wife, but uncertain of what to do about them. He was giving Molly's hand reassuring squeezes whenever she seemed to need it, but he knew Elsie was watching, and could practically read her thoughts behind her eyes. She was thus far rather unimpressed by her rival for Sherlock's affections. He probably could incite Molly to show a little of the fire she hid so well, but knew he'd have hell to pay for it later. Really, the women needed a chance to sort it out between themselves, without the pressure of the family surrounding them. A slight smirk turned up the corner of Sherlock's mouth as an idea came to him, and his hand dipped into Eleanor's bag.

* * *

_AN: This one is thanks to another prompt from superlc529, who wanted to see Elise and Molly meet. I have to say, this particular chapter got away from me a bit. From the second the reached the house it sprouted a mind of its own, taking me hostage until I met its terms. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I would love to hear your thoughts on what you think Sherlock is up to ;) Hopefully this will be more of a challenge than my usual cliffhangers._


	19. Girl Talk

**Girl Talk**

They were halfway through dinner when Eleanor started to grumble, before breaking into a full blown cry. Sherlock started to get up, but Molly's hand on his arm stopped him, as he suspected she would.

"I'll take care of it. She's hungry. Excuse me." She said, getting up and lifting Eleanor out of the high chair that the Buckley's had provided for her, setting her on her hip as she dug through the bag looking for the bottle of breast milk she had pumped earlier. She gasped as she found the bottle empty, the contents all spilt in the bag, soaking all Eleanor's spare clothes and nappies.

"Oh no." She groaned, moving closer to Sherlock and explaining in hushed tones "Sherlock, the lids come off the milk, and I didn't bring anymore."

"Well, not bottled." Sherlock smirked not bothering to keep his voice down, and unashamedly casting his eyes down to her breasts and back to her face just in time to see her go bright red from embarrassment. He'd pay for that later, he was sure.

"It's okay." Elsie said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin as she rose from her seat the other side of Sherlock. "I'll take you somewhere you can feed her in peace." She offered, leading the way. With a screaming Eleanor in her arms, Molly had no option but to follow Elsie through the long winding corridors of the big house. It seemed they were the complete other side of the manor when Elsie finally pushed on of the doors open for Molly to enter.

It was a nursery, complete with two cots, a changing table, a rocking chair and a plethora of toys stacked around the room.

"Oh. You have kids here often?" Molly asked, taking in the well-stocked room.

"No." Elsie shrugged "This was mine and Lottie's nursery. When we outgrew it we simply moved to another room. It's been pretty much empty since then, except the maids coming in to clean."

"That's one advantage of a big house I suppose." Molly sighed in awe.

Elise narrowed her eyes calculatingly. "Sherlock has money, you know. If this is the kind of life and house you wanted, he could provide it. All you'd have to do is ask."

Molly shook her head, smiling softly "I don't have to ask to know that it's not what he wants. In fact I'd go as far as to say he'd hate it. And to be honest, I don't know what I'd do with all this space. I'm happy with what we have."

Elsie smiled and nodded, and Molly had the strange feeling she'd just passed some kind of test.

"Well, I suppose I should leave you in peace to feed…" Elsie sighed, turning towards the door.

"You… you don't have to." Molly extended the invitation hesitantly. "It's not like breasts are anything you haven't seen before."

Elsie smiled and nodded again, leaning against one of the cots as Molly made herself comfortable with Eleanor in the rocking chair, and undid her top and bra to let her feed.

"I was so jealous when Sherlock told me he was married." Elsie sighed "I spent days wondering what his wife would be like. You're not at all what I expected. Don't get me wrong, you seem nice enough… too nice maybe. I bet he walks all over you."

Molly was quiet for a few seconds, pondering her response. It was another test she felt. The last part of her admission was definitely meant as an insult, and she clearly was interested to see what Molly would do about it, to see if she really was a pushover. She would be in for a surprise.

"That lid didn't come off on it's own. It couldn't have. Sherlock wanted to get me and you alone together, so we'd talk, so he deliberately undone it." Molly told her, relishing the look of surprise on Elsie's face at how Sherlock had played her "Sometimes he does walk all over me, manipulate me, like he does so many others. But only when I let him. And he knows that. I'll probably tell him off later about the milk thing, but I wouldn't have played along if I didn't agree it was a good idea for us to talk."

"Well played. You and Sherlock, I'm really starting to see it now. I guess you took him by surprise as well, and that's not an easy thing to do." Elsie grinned.

"Something like that." Molly grinned, before bursting into a full blown laugh "He was in shock for 3 days when I defied his logic about love not being a bad thing."

"Uh, he wasn't following Mycroft's maxim was he? You can blame Lottie for that; he did have a heart once, before she broke it." Elsie winked

"Nooo!" Molly gasped "What could she possibly have done to turn him into… Mycroft?"

"Oh well he already had his doubts about love since their Father died, but if there was one person who he was willing to change his mind for, it was Lottie…"

* * *

Sherlock was relieved to see that his plan had worked. By the time the women came back, with a contented and well fed Eleanor, they were laughing and joking like old friends. And the amity not only held through dinner, but for the rest of the evening as well, and they left with promises to keep in touch, and plans to meet up for shopping. He couldn't help but smile to himself as they got into the cab taking them home.

"I know about the milk." Molly told him softly, mindful of Eleanor sleeping.

"It worked, didn't it?" He replied unapologetically.

"Better than you know… Captain."


	20. 5 Years Later

_AN: Sorry for not giving you fair warning, but this is in fact the last chapter of this story, and probably of the series as a whole. I didn't want to leave you without a glimpse of the future of our happy family, so here we are, fast forwarding 5 years. Be warned, this is going to be excessively adorable._

* * *

**5 Years Later**

Bright red wellies splattered with mud, as Eleanor Holmes ran ahead and jumped in a big puddle, before turning back and giving a gap-toothed smile to her parents, who walked hand in hand behind her. It was a beautiful autumn day, perfect for a walk around the boating lake in Regent's Park. They were meeting John and Mary, and their sons, Arthur and Conan, in the play park the other side, so the fathers could go off to meet Lestrade about their latest case. But they were running early, and so were taking the scenic route.

"Try not to get too wet Ellie, or you'll get cold." Molly gently rebuked her.

"Relax, she's having fun." Sherlock's deep voice rumbled, as he smiled at his daughter's antics. Suddenly his gaze snapped upwards and he smiled. "Eleanor!" He called in a stage whisper, beckoning for her to look upwards. She broke into a big smile, seeing the squirrel in the branches above her, and danced along under it as it flitted from tree to tree. She was so busy looking up, she almost bumped into a group of young boys, walking in the opposite direction. She stopped just in time, frowning as they walked round her, laughing at something.

"What's the matter?" Molly asked, seeing her hesitation near the boys.

Ellie's eyes flitted around the park, until they came to rest on an ice cream van parked on the grass just off the road.

"Ice cream!" She yelled enthusiastically, turning around and pulling on her father's coat, trying to drag him towards the ice cream van. He laughed and shrugged at Molly, who frowned, worried that if Eleanor had ice cream now, she wouldn't eat the lunch she'd packed for her. She had the strange feeling that that was the exact reason why Eleanor was asking Sherlock, not her, for the ice cream.

"Which one do you want?" Sherlock asked, picking Eleanor up so she could see the pictures on the side of the van.

"That one." Eleanor said firmly, pointing at a cone with a flake. The ice cream man smiled and made the ice cream, handing it to Eleanor. Sherlock put her down to pay the man, but was shocked to see her running away the second he did.

"Eleanor!" He called in concern, pulling and a fiver and tossing it absentmindedly onto the counter. "Keep the change!" he called over his shoulder, joining Molly in chasing after their daughter.

Eleanor stopped in front of a bench, where a sad looking 9 year old boy was sitting. With a smile she handed the ice cream over to him. The boy looked shocked at first, then hugged her tight and thanked her with teary eyes, before hitching up his backpack onto his shoulders and walking away, waving at Ellie. Grinning broadly, Eleanor skipped back to her parents, who were standing a few feet away looking shocked.

"Who was that boy Ellie?" Molly crouched down in front of her and asked.

"I don't know." Eleanor shrugged.

"Then why did you give him your ice cream?"

"Because the mean boys took his. They had an ice cream, but I thought it was odd that they only had one between them, and then I saw that boy on the bench. He still had some around his mouth, but he looked sad, so he obviously hadn't finished his ice cream or he'd be happy. He was dirty and bruised and his jumper was ripped, so they must have beat him up for it. I knew there was supposed to be a flake too, because there was still a few crumbs of chocolate on the cone. He didn't have any around his mouth though, so he was saving it, like I do, but the mean boy ate it first."

Molly gasped and turned back to look at Sherlock. Sherlock, who had been frozen on the spot since he had seen his daughter give away her ice cream. He had seen all the clues too, but didn't dare believe that that was what she was up to, until he heard the words from his daughter's mouth. A tear of happiness escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek.

"Her first deduction." He whispered, before swooping down on her with an excited laughed, picking her up and spinning her in his arms making her giggle with joy. They were grinning broadly at each other when they stopped. "Good girl, Eleanor. That was brilliant. Shall we go back and get you your own ice cream now?"

But to his surprise, she shook her head. "Not yet, silly." She told him "Mummy doesn't let me have sweeties before lunch. I'll have mine later."

Her words broke Molly out of the shock of her daughter deducing, and she laughed, stepping in close and joining them for a group hug.

"That's right Ellie." She said. "After lunch, you can have all the ice cream you want."

* * *

_AN: So there we go. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and the journey to it as much as I have. Honestly, you have no idea how amazing it has been for me, the reception to these stories which have spurred me to keep writing and letting this story progress. Thank you to every single one of my followers, those who have favorited me, and of course everyone who has ever left me a review. And all you lurkers out there who read but don't follow favorite or review, just your presence makes me ever so happy :)_

_For any of you who are interested, I am already halfway through my next one-shot, going back in time to John in the war. It's very different to what I am used to writing, but an interesting challenge, and hopefully one I shall complete soon and post. Hopefully I'll see some of you there. _

_:D_


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